LeatherBound Memories
by Mistress of the Night5
Summary: Edward Elric thought writing in journals was stupid, but a dog does as he's told. Little did he know, he was creating a record of the best part of his life. It all began the day the sky turned red... Rated M for possible language and violence. [RoyxEd]
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello all! My name is Amber and this is my first shot at writing this kind of fanfiction, but I hope you like it. I originally intended it to be a one-shot but once I got writing on it, I realized I could carry it out a bit longer than that. This is written in a journal style, like Edward is writing in a journal. I hope it will be easy enough to follow in the chapters to come. As all writers do, I appreciate any and all feedback! Enjoy!**_

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or own any rights to it. It is the work of someone much more talented than I. I am simply borrowing the characters to play with their lives a little bit!**

**Note: This story is RoyxEd. I do not plan on it being an extremely graphic fic, and have rated it M rather for the language and violent scenes that may arise. However, if you are greatly opposed to this pairing, then do not read it. I appreciate constructive criticisms, but not flames because you do not like the romantic pairing I have chosen. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.**

**Leather-Bound Memories**

Entry One: Who I Am

Gunshots rang through the air, joined by a violent chorus of screams, explosions, and death. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a deep orange glaze over the world. Those who witnessed the horrors will tell you the sky turned blood red that day, bleeding for the hundreds of fallen souls.

There are events in my life that have eternally scarred me. Scenes from my past haunt my dreams at night, causing me to wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, and barely breathing. Even if I described them in perfect detail, you could never imagine what it was like. I do not say this out of spite. I would never wish these nightmares upon anyone. My sin, my burden.

I do not know who you are. You are the unlucky soul who has stumbled across my journal and opted to read it. I can't promise you that it will be the most riveting story you have ever read, but it is the story of my life. I have never written anything like this before, and I will never read it again. I have no desire to relive my past anymore than necessary. So, I will do my best to write this like on would a story, so at least it may be more entertaining to you. But before I tell you my story, let me finish the part that consists of my internal ramblings and my introduction.

Who am I? I am Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. I am called "The Hero of the People." I became part of the military's State Alchemists at the age of twelve, the youngest in history, and I suppose that you could say I am a legend. Of course, we know how legends fade and by the time you are now reading this, the world may have forgotten me and you may have no idea who I am. I don't care. I didn't do any of that to go down in history. I did what I had to out of necessity. I am only writing this journal because it is an assignment, all thanks to the military's new psychiatric department. They believe it would be in the best interest of all soldiers who have witnessed the terrors of battle to keep a journal in order to allow for some sort of release. They think it will promote mental stability. I personally think it is a load of horse shit, but that is all part of being the military's dog; you do what you're told. (You will have to pardon my language throughout the course of this reading – I never have been one to mind my tongue.)

Now everywhere I look, my comrades are constantly scribbling away in these leather-bound memory books, looks of pain on their faces as they try to recall the horrors of the past which they would rather forget. I fail to see how forcing people to relive their worst nightmares is good for their health, but I'm not the one with the degree or the badges to say otherwise. Of course, I'm sure not all pasts are as dark as mine, so perhaps my views are more biased. I'm sure Fuery has some short scribbles about stray animals he couldn't save. Breda has probably recounted in explicit detail each of the "vicious" encounters he has had with puppies. Judging by the tears and angry grumbles, I would say Havoc has set aside room for each girl he has lost, most of them having been stolen by the Colonel. Colonel Bastard is more like it! It's not that I hate Mustang, contrary to popular belief, but rather that we share a rivalry of sorts. Who can agitate who more. But, he may understand most. When I see the Colonel writing in his journal, his black eyes become empty, void of all emotion, and I know he is writing about Ishbal, the massacre. Yes, the Colonel may understand how I feel about these journals. Do not misunderstand me, I love all of my comrades, and we have each faced the monstrosity that is war, be it together or alone, but some have not been involved in situations as dire as others, like the Colonel and myself have. For that, I am glad.

With all this talk about horrors, scars, and nightmares, I'm sure you're wondering what exactly I am going on about. Well, let me give you a brief synopsis. My father (bastard!) left home when I was very young, leaving my mother to raise myself and my younger brother Alphonse on her own. Quite frankly, I liked it that way. I didn't care if the bastard ever came back. But God (should he exist) had other plans in mind. When I was ten, the disease that my mother had been hiding for so long hit full force, making me to say goodbye to the woman who had loved and raised me, forever. I was determined to bring her back, and that is what set me on my journey. In a failed human transmutation I created a monster that looked like my mother, lost my right arm and left leg (which have been replaced with the metal limbs known as automail, hence the name Fullmetal…haha…), and my younger brother lost his body. I was barely able to save his soul by binding it to a suit of armor. I spent the next five years of my life getting that body back. I have witnessed death and shed blood with my own hands. I have seen human chimeras and killed the human sins that are homunculi. I have witnessed the sacrifice of an entire city of people and obtained the legendary Philosopher's Stone. I have died and been resurrected, and I have returned a human soul to a human body. Finally, I have sworn to follow he who helped me, as long as he should need my help, and that brings you to my current journey in life.

You ask what would cause nightmares? That life would: the failed transmutation, the homunculi, the blood and death, the loss of friends, the sacrifice of Lior, and the massacre at Central Headquarters. I am constantly plagued by these memories, and I will not recount them for you in anymore detail than I already have. I prefer to leave my skeletons in the closet. I'm not going to forget they're there, and as I said, I see no reason to force you or myself to relive those terrors; all except the last that is. My name is Edward Elric. I am nineteen years old. I am the one and only Fullmetal Alchemist, and this is where you pick up my story…the day the sky turned red…

**Well, that's my beginning. Good? Bad? I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are appreciated! And I will update as often as I can.**

** Mistress of the Night5**


	2. The Day the Sky Turned Red

**Hi all! I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update. I'm currently trying to balance out my first year of college with the fullest possible schedule I am allowed to take along with work and a boyfriend so my time is stretched very thin as is. Plus the last week and a half has been all mid-term/mid-term prep so I had little free time. (I only slept 15 hours total in all of last week!) I will update this story as often as I possibly can though, I swear. I writing during and outside of class, but I still have to devote time to homework and studies. I hope I haven't driven any of you away with my tardiness.**

** Thanks to all of the reviewers! It helps a lot to hear encouraging words and you guys were absolutely wonderful! Eventually I will start replying to each of the reviews individually, but for now it's just this. I really do appreciate comments and even criticism though.**

**Disclaimer: Again, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist nor did I have anything to do with its creation. I am simply borrowing the characters to twist their world. The plot idea (for what there is of one), however, is my own.**

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**Entry Two: The Day the Sky Turned Red**

Fire, dirt, grime, debris, bodies, blood. The sings of war littered the streets leading up to Central Headquarters. To put it simply, Central, the military's stronghold, was under attack. I don't know how we didn't see this coming, but leave it to the military to not notice something until it's right in front of them. If it weren't for a few soldiers stationed in Xenotime, we would have been blind sighted.

In a tiny town called Ravier, sixty kilometers west of Xenotime, rebel forces were gathering - rebels that preached of freedom and equality, as well as peace and serenity. The idiots never stopped to think for a moment that none of that can ever truly exist, even if the ideas are beautiful. Ideas are some of the most powerful things in existence, rising above guns and alchemy. An idea, a notion, a desire. All can push you onwards, each may change the world. And when you're gathering forces to attack the greatest force in all of Amestris, your best bet is to find an idea which appeals to everyone. They did.

When your life hits rock bottom, or your heart aches from loss and despair, you'll blame anyone: the world, God, your neighbor, or anyone whose position you can twist in such a way that everything that you've suffered from is in some way their fault. And who better to blame for all the hurt in this fucked up world than the Amestris Military, angels of death in blue uniforms. And one can't forget their ever-faithful guard dogs, the State Alchemists. We are quite literally the dogs of the military, attacking when told to do so and dealing death left and right. We are despised by some and revered by others. There is no middle ground. I wonder if we are still viewed as such in your time. If we are, or even if we're not, you should know that there is much more to we Alchemists than that. Most of us (and I say most from darker past experiences), prefer to not kill at all and would rather use our abilities to simple capture the accused. I am not alone in the nightmares of death that haunt my dreams. We fight when and how we are told. We are dogs following orders, but that doesn't mean we like them. But I am getting off topic… As I was saying, if you want to blame someone for the pain in the world, turn your gaze to those who make a living out of battles, imprisonment, and death. When people are desperate, they do not think rationally and they do stupid things. I know. I've been there. And that is how the rebel union began.

They promised victory over the military, and that appeals to more people than I would care to admit. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, loved ones, and friends come flocking to get revenge for their fallen loved ones, regardless of whether they had been enemies of the state, or were simply fallen soldiers. Yes, the military would even pay for the deaths of their own soldiers because it was the military's fault for letting them fight in the first place. Rogue alchemists, those who opted to use their abilities for something other than the military, stepped forward. They did so not out of revenge, but rather due to hate for the State Alchemists, the "fiends" who use the gift of alchemy for blood shed. I'll never understand how people can be so stupid! How they thought a patchwork rebel fleet could take on the Amestris army, much less at Central (!), I'll never know. Yes, there was a point in my life that I would have been tempted to join, but who wouldn't be drawn to promises of peace without the army? But I was younger then and I was still naïve. It was a pointless battle! All that blood, all those lives. What good came of it? Who's happier now? No one! I can still smell and feel the death around me. Yes, in a small town the military overlooked, they had gathered a thousand men, so the body count was high. They're still scrubbing blood off the streets.

They marched into Central just past noon that day. It looked more like a parade than a battle front (if you ignored the guns). Their lines were scrambled and their colors clashed. Some of the boys couldn't have been much over thirteen. People fled Central's streets in fear as the rebels continued their solemn march to the gates of hell, but we were ready.

Soldiers had formed a barricade around Central, hiding behind sandbags with rifles propped up at the ready. There were soldiers on rooftop, sniping from windows of tall building, and some were even perched in trees. The military had pulled out all the stops. Very few times in my life have I seen so many soldiers gathered at once. We weren't afraid Central would fall, but we were terrified of how many we'd have to kill before the realized that their march was in vain. And amongst all of these soldiers, my unit was the last front, waiting precariously on the front steps, ready to strike down any who broke through our ranks.

I stood near the top of Central's steps, only a couple of feet away from the Colonel. The State Alchemists had been scattered throughout the ranks, but they were being kept toward the back. After all, many of us don't need direct contact to battle. The Colonel and I could quite easily attack from this distance. We stood over the rest of out unit. The Colonel was barking order to the others. It was a sight to see. Despite all of the blood and bodies which I could barely stand to look at, he stayed stone-faced, unwavering, and shouting commands smooth and coolly. I even caught myself staring once or twice. Stupid bastard. Hawkeye was crouched before us, behind a pile of sandbag, her rifle at the ready. Breda and Falman were side by side behind the barricade at the base of the steps. A few feet above them Havoc covered the far right and Fuery the far left. We weren't a large fleet, but we were still powerful. Still, when the first few rebels broke through, Hawkeye shot, Mustang snapped, and I froze. I couldn't do it. Mustang was yelling at me, but his voice sounded miles away. I couldn't take my eyes off the charred body as it fell to the ground, flakes of blackened skin mixing with the ever growing pool of blood coming from his companion, courtesy of Riza's deadly aim. It wasn't until a bullet whizzed past me, just grazing my ear, that I snapped back to reality.

"Fullmetal! You're going to get us all killed! Step up and stop acting like a child or go home," Mustang had yelled at me. Reality came crashing down. I had to fight. I couldn't let anyone else die because of me. I couldn't lose anyone else. Not again. I clapped, blue sparks lit the air as I hit the ground, and a spike shot up through a rebel fighter's chest. I killed a man. He couldn't have been over sixteen. I finally understood Mustang's stone face. I've hid emotions as best as I could, but only a few things have amounted to that day. I grew up the day I dug up my mother's grave. I shut out the world and said goodbye to my youth the day I killed her monster. And I aged again the day I killed a man, no, a boy, who was fighting for his cause, something I had done for most of my life. I clapped again. At this rate, my soul was going to die of old age far sooner than my body. That's why you wear the stone mask – to cover up every time you die inside. If you don't hold it in, you'll break down and may never pick yourself back up again, so you trap it all in stone. I am an alchemist with a level of skill few can hope to have (whenever I take time to think things out at least). A boy with a gun stood no chance against me. I'll put that thought, that emotion, in my stone barrier and never let it out. I watch Mustang snap again. His eyes are dark and unmoving, and there is no emotion there. No anger, no joy, no fear. He's not acting on any feelings at all, but he's dying a little more with every spark. A gun can't compete with an instant bomb either. We truly are the state's killing machines.

I tried not to keep count of the number of bodies I had added to the rebels' fatality count; much less the number the military had added overall. One side had to win. We had to fight. It was fight or be killed – killed by the rebels if you stayed, executed by the military if you fled. We had no choice. It helps to tell myself this. You probably don't agree. Doesn't matter. You couldn't understand. A stray bullet struck my upper arm. I've never been so glad to have metal limbs.

We fought for hours. The sun from high noon which had marked the start of the battle had begun to sink behind the buildings of Central. Bodies littered the streets, some in blood soaked uniforms, but many in everyday clothes. So many had died, many that should have never seen a gun. Everything was bathed in a red-orange from the setting sun. Even the sky was bleeding. No matter where you looked, you couldn't escape stains of blood. The sky turned red that day. I saw it. And the rebels kept coming. I was so tired, but I kept clapping.

It must have been five or six when the rebels revealed they had planned for more than anyone foresaw. Our soldiers were tired, like me, fighting, but tired. The rebels began to part and for a moment it seemed like all fighting stopped to watch what they were hiding. Cannons. Ten to fifteen of them. I saw purple alchemic sparks illuminate the ends of one. A small spark, and a ball came flying out at a rapid speed. They were using alchemy to fire. Smart. It allowed them more control. Mustang snapped and the ball exploded, raining down debris on the heads of the soldiers and rebels below. They were firing bombs. Normally, firing a bomb from a cannon would explode on the spot from the cannon's spark, so it wasn't conceivable; but, when one fired with alchemy that hazard was eliminated. Again, smart. Horrible for us.

Mustang's fingers went into overdrive. Snap, boom, snap. It rang out over every gun shot. Better to get hit with debris than a bomb. Our alchemists were slowly destroying their cannons while Mustang fended off their bombs. It was almost dark by the time we got down to the last cannon, but that's when things in our unit took a turn for the worse. Mustang was poised, near the top of the steps now, so he could get better aim. He also had a better view of the field below him. I was a few stops below that and my being…well…more vertically impaired than he is, I wasn't seeing quite the same thing he saw, but I saw him freeze. So I imagine what he saw went something like this:

Mustang had just completed his explosion of another enemy bomb when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the small rebel gunman, probably only thirteen years old, sent because he was still smaller and thus stealthier than the other fighters. He had climbed the side of the steps, positioning his small handgun over the edge, and aiming. For half a second he had frozen, the shot had broken the air louder than any other, and Hawkeye had screamed. The Colonel yelled out her name, Havoc turned and fired, dropping the kid before he could do anymore damage, and I ran down the few steps between Hawkeye and I. Mustang took a step and froze for the second time as realization hit. In that split second while he was distracted by his first lieutenant's cries, the enemy had loosed another bomb. He looked up just in time to see it pass over head and make contact. Boom.

Before the sound from the impact hit me, I felt the ground tremble. I glanced away from Hawkeye's leg, where blood was seeping between my fingers, staining my white gloves with a deep crimson, and looked toward the sky. The front wall of Central was crumbling, and the large blocks of stone were heading straight toward us. I barely had time to clap and hit the ground. The debris rained against the stone barrier I had put around Hawkeye and I, and for a moment, I was afraid it wouldn't hold, but then the noise stopped. I quickly tore a strip of material from the bottom of my cloak and tied it over the bullet wound in Hawkeye's calf. After she assured me that she was stable, I turned to see what damage had been done. I dissolved the front of my barrier, creating an exit. Everything was still dark. I could see a few beams of light through the debris, so I figured the wall of stone before me must not have been too thick. You must exercise extreme caution when moving about in an unstable environment such as that, so I didn't want to move anymore stone than I had to. I carefully transmuted the stones into a reinforced doorway. The wall had fallen in such a way that we found ourselves in an open, but very cramped hollow. By crawling, I was able to make my way around easily enough. Dist filled the air, sending me into a few coughing fits, and my eyes had a hard time adjusting to the small degree of light. I called out Mustang's name a few times, he being the reason I was crawling through all that dirt and grime. I hit an end in the small cave we were in and had just to find him. I assumed he had missed the buildings collapse until I saw him through a small opening in the stone. The hollow hadn't ended; the stone had just fallen in tighter near the end. I called to him and received no answer. I could barely make him out but my eyes were slowly adjusting. He didn't appear to be moving. I tried, without success, to move through the hole. I kept getting stuck at the shoulder. Grumbling about the Colonel being a useless bastard, I stripped down to my tank top, grabbed my automail near the port, and pulled. It hurt like hell. I threw my arm through the hole, and then proceeded to pull myself through single handedly. It was a tight fit, even without my arm. I dragged myself over to him and shook him. No response. I leaded down and tried to hear breathing, or a heartbeat, or anything. Nothing. Mustang's pale skin glowed in the darkness. It made the blood across his forehead obvious to anyone who took a moment to look. I froze. Then I panicked.

"Hawkeye!" I screamed. "He's not breathing!"

""What? Who?!" she had yelled back, her voice echoing through the small enclosure.

"Mustang isn't breathing." I felt my heart speeding up with every second.

"Then do CPR!" a faint sliver of fear slipped through in her voice.

"CP–what?" I kept shaking Mustang, hoping maybe he would just wake up.

You could almost hear Riza roll her eyes. "Mouth to mouth Edward! You have to get him breathing again and jump start his heart!"

"You want me to do what?!" I shook Mustang vigorously. There was no way I was kissing that bastard. "You come do it!"

"Don't be a child Edward," Riza growled. "You're wasting time! And I couldn't make it through if I tried."

Oh yeah…her leg. "Well, how do I do this?"

"Pinch his nose, breathe into his mouth, and pump his heart three times. Keep doing this until he wakes up."

I leaned down slowly, watching Mustang, waiting for him to open his eyes and tell me that this was some great prank, but it wasn't. No, it was war, we were in the midst of battle, my superior officer was down, and I was the only one who could save him. I went for it. His lips were warm. That's all I remember. I was so panicked that everything else is a blur, but his lips were warms and that gave me hope. I don't remember how many times I pumped his chest, but eventually I heard a cough, then another. I pulled back and stared as Mustang opened his eyes. He slowly reached up and touched the side of my face. For some reason, it felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.

"Huh," he said before his hand dropped back down and his eyelids fluttered shut. My head shot down quickly. Still breathing, just passed out. I sighed.

"Just don't die you cocky bastard," I muttered. Just then I heard rumbling over heard. I saw of a few of the stones shift as the unstable structure gave way. The last thing I remember is Riza calling my name. Everything after that is dark.

_Well, I have written a lot today…a lot more than I thought I was going to. Perhaps writing this won't be as bad as I thought, though some of these memories play out far too realistically for me. It still hurts. I'll write more later, my brother is calling._

_- Edward  
_

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**Hope you all enjoyed! Reviews are appreciated. I promise to update as soon as I can!**

**- Mistress of the Night**


	3. Rude Awakenings

**You know the drill, school and yada yada. I am very sorry it's taken me so long. I probably shouldn't even be putting this up right now as I'm dead in the middle of finals week and should be studying, but I finished this up about a week ago and wanted to get it up. It should be better this summer. I'll be in and out of computer access during May, but I'll have regular access starting in June so we should be good to go then. Thank you a million for those who have reviewed, it means a lot!**

** Once again, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist nor claim any rights to it. All characters in this story are borrowed, only the story plotline is mine. Enjoy and review!**

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**Entry Three: Rude Awakenings**

_Well, here I am again, and you've just about caught up with me and where I currently am in life. There's still a bit more of catching up to do though. Not sure how interesting this will be after all of that, but trouble does seem to have a way of finding me. Time will tell I suppose. How'd you like my war story? I'm sure it was an entertaining read for anyone who wasn't here. Perhaps I should try my hand at writing. Or not. I do hope you are enjoying yourself and that my endless drabbles aren't boring you. I also hope that you will leave here with a new view on the military, the State Alchemists, and war. I know I sat with the same frame of mind you probably have for most of my life. Now Mustang's unit is like family. Funny how time and a few near death experiences can change your views in life. But, enough idle talk, let's get back to my story. Where did I leave off…_

Black. Do you have any idea how weird it is to look back and only see black? There is a week of my life that I can't remember. One minute I'm sitting in a stone entrapment saving Mustang's life, the next, everything is bright and hazy, and everything feels fuzzy. I tried to focus through the blinding white light. My eyes were clouded with protein, and my arms felt too heavy to life, but I was slowly able to make out the white walls and matching tiled ceiling, the tubes and monitors running from my body to various IVs and machines, and the sleeping brunette in the chair across the room. All of this could only add up to one thing…a hospital. Fantastic. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but all that came out was a hoarse string of sounds. Not what I was going for, but it was enough.

"Brother!" steel-grey eyes shot open. I yelped as he skidded to a stop, colliding with the side of the bed. Everything hurt. I hadn't noticed at first. It was one of those dull, constant pains that spike whenever they're agitated, like when someone smashes into your bed like a human battering ram. I was so wrapped up in my pain that I didn't even realize Al was still talking. Let me tell you this – you've never been interrogated until you wake up in a hospital room with an overly worrisome brother to whom you may have forgotten to mention a few minor details. Al was so busy rambling that I don't think he even noticed that I hadn't been listening by the time I actually did tune in.

"…against me, but I got here as soon as I could. But how are you? How do you feel? Does it hurt? Well of course it hurts, but is it bad? What happened? Why didn't you tell me you were going into battle?! Why are you always so stubborn?!" The last few questions were yelled. A nurse glared through the glass on the door as Al waved sheepishly. I hadn't told Al about the rebellion. He would have only worried and he had more important things to focus on, like his new business and upcoming family. I had held his life back long enough. Besides, I really didn't think it would be that big of a deal, until I woke up in the hospital that is.

"Al, I …" my voice was still scratchy and hard to understand. Al made this face which said 'oh,' before turning to pour a glass of water. I tried to sit up but my arm decided it didn't feel like responding.

Al helped pull me into a sitting position as he explained. We were lucky to have survived after the stone front of Central had collapsed. There was enough stone to have crushed any man after falling from such a height, so they knew that they must have landed somehow such that we missed collision, and of course as you know, they were correct in their assumptions. After the collapse, a group of soldiers had been gathered to clear the debris and see if we had survived. Between the clean up and the vibrations from battle, the unstable cave we had been hiding in shifted and gave way, collapsing on top of us. One of the stones had landed directly on my arm, crushing the auto-mail. I winced knowing what fate awaited me before I could get a functional arm again: a loud mouth and a heavy wrench. Another stone, they assumed, had knocked me out, and I had been out for the past week. Well, that had certainly solved the mystery behind why everything hurt and why I could barely talk. Al helped me get down a bit of water as I coughed and spluttered, refreshing some very underused airways. A week may not seem like much, but if you knew me, you would understand that a week is a long time for me to go without yelling, much less without talking.

After a few minutes I was able to talk. My voice was still raspy but at least it was audible. I couldn't look my brother in the eye though. "Al, I didn't…" I sighed, "I didn't want to worry you."

"You're so stubborn Ed," Al muttered, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed. "You would rather have me get a phone call from some military official that I don't even know, calling me to tell me my brother is in the hospital and unconscious, after participating in the largest rebellion since Lior?" I took a moment for a brief glance up and instantly wished I hadn't. Al's steel eyes could hold so much emotion: anger, hurt, sadness, worry, and concern – all my fault. "You should have told me – I could have helped!"

"No!" I shouted, forcing my throat to open and ignoring the pain. "That's exactly what I didn't want! You're my brother Alphonse, always will be, but this life," I gestured around the hospital room, "it isn't yours anymore. I chose this life, and you have your own. You've got your shop and Winry to worry about. You take care of that – I can take care of myself. Somewhere along that long road we grew up, and we have to go our own ways now. I knew you would come Al, that's why I didn't tell you. You can't travel with me anymore. You can't fight with me. Now you get to be my brother and nothing else. If you really want to help me, you can be someone who calls at the end of the day and gives me something other than war to talk about. It does more than you know."

"It makes me feel so useless Ed," he sighed.

"I would rather know you're safe," I gave my best smile and reached for his hand. "All these years were to get your body back, so we could go back to our normal lives. You have that now Alphonse, don't lose it. The military is my normal life." I actually laughed at that. "I don't think I would feel right anywhere else after all these years. If I stopped, then I would feel useless. This is just the first real battle that I've been in since we split up – there'll be more, and it'll get easier for you to accept as time goes on."

"I suppose you're right," Al agreed reluctantly, hanging his head. If Al could be everywhere in the world, helping everyone who needed it, he would be. I chuckled and ruffled his hair. "But," he looked up at me with sharp eyes, "never, and I mean never brother, leave me in the dark again! If I can't be with you, then I can worry by the phones. I don't want to answer the phone ever again and hear that voice telling me you're hospitalized or maybe even dead without knowing anything in advance! We don't keep secrets Edward."

I laid back, shrugging defeatedly. Why do little brothers always make such good arguments? Or maybe it's just mine. Either way, I apologized and we sat in silence for a while. "How's Hawkeye, do you know?" I finally asked after a good ten minutes.

"Oh," Al relaxed back into his chair, realizing the awkward silence was over. "She's alright, got discharged yesterday morning. They stitched up the bullet wound in her leg. She's got a crutch for some torn tendons and a fracture in her ankle from the rocks. She was lucky the tendons didn't tear entirely, kept her out of surgery, but she'll have that crutch for a while. Other than a few knicks and bruises, everything else was fine."

I sighed with relief. "And everyone else?"

"Breda and Faldman are fine. Fuery took a bad fall and broke his arm. I think he was trying to pull the stones off when they collapsed. One came loose and took him tumbling all the way down the steps. Havoc broke his hand and sprained his wrist punching some guy twice his size, but he's alright. Last I saw he had three nurses sitting around him while he told his courageous war story about how he single-handedly held back the rebels. You all were very lucky brother, and you're lucky that your automail took the blunt of the damage. Most you really suffered was that knock to the head and a lot of bruising."

"Heh. If you want to call my automail taking all the damage lucky, you obviously don't know how Winry gets with her work," I chuckled. "She'd rather my real arm had been crushed so she could give me a new one."

"Brother that's not true!" Al gasped. "Winry would never say something like that!"

"Al, I know you love her. I love her too, but eventually you have to admit to yourself that your wife had an almost unhealthy obsession with work." Al opened and shut his mouth silently a few times, searching for some rebuttal I'm sure, but there was none. When it came to Winry, she loved her automail more than anything in the world. She even once asked me why I would want my limbs back when I could have automail. Consequences came with her obsession too. I would almost rather drink milk than tell Winry I'd broken my automail again, and I **hate** milk. I sighed inwardly, looking at the crumpled heap of an arm. I figured the only reason Winry wasn't there was because she was off looking for the largest, heaviest wrench she could carry. I shuddered.

It took me a moment to realize who Al hadn't mentioned in his review of the statuses of my comrades. My mind instantly jumped to the worst and everything in my chest clenched up. I've only experienced that feeling a few times in my life so its presence only served to frighten me further. "Alphonse…" Al looked up at me suddenly, "what about the Colonel?" Al's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes seemed to darken as he lowered his gaze to the floor. If the tightness in my chest increased any more I was certain that I was going to explode as I waited for what he would say next.

"Edward," Al's tone didn't help either, "he---"

_Damnit! Hawkeye just dropped a load of paper work on my desk. "Now Edward," she says. I wouldn't pay much attention if it weren't for her hand on that gun. I guess I'll finish this later…_

_ Edward_


	4. Brothers and Lieutenants

Hi all! I can't express how much I am sorry that I haven't updated in ages. I try and write while I'm at work and during classes. I ended up working two jobs over the summer and am working on maintaining a full job and school. I don't know. I need to get back to my stories. This chapter was literally written over the course of months so I hope it's alright. I will truly try to update more in the future!

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or have rights to any characters. I do own DVDs, manga, posters, and an Ed plushie which I can torture to my hearts content however.

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Entry Four: Worrisome Brothers and Matchmaking Lieutenants

_So I have to agree with the Colonel when he says paper work is evil. It always seems to come at the most inconvenient times, is excruciatingly boring, and utterly pointless. It's raining today and everything around Central is grey. The rain makes my automail ports sore. Maybe it's all the humidity and static in the air. Maybe I'm just getting old --- I'm sure my body is much older than nineteen given everything I've put it through. Then again, maybe it's because it rained that day, the day I sacrificed these limbs for what I thought was the greater good. _

_Life is kind of like alchemy in a way I suppose. There are countless things that can happen, but those outcomes are limited by what you have available to work with. You're not the alchemists in this scenario. The alchemist knows what he can and can't do in his given situation. The onlooker; however, has no idea what will arise from the alchemic design. We really are just onlookers in life too aren't we? We think we can control it, but none of us ever really know what will happen for every action we take. Maybe just life in general is alchemy. Both are made of energy, matter, and commands. All have the same basic parts and are thus similar. Who knows? _

_Sorry, I just get really down and thoughtful on days like today. I'm sure you could care less about my musings and would rather get back to the action parts of this story. Well, I've almost recounted everything up until now, but my life is never quiet so I'm sure there'll be more later on. Anyway, back to what I was saying before._

"Brother, he…" Al's words seemed to drag on forever. He what? Even though there was only a few seconds pause in Al's sentence, the dark look on his face was enough to cause hundreds of possibilities to rush through my mind. He died? He's in a coma? He's paralyzed? He hit his head and now thinks he's a five year old girl? There's nothing worse than anxiety. Al took a deep breath. "He owes you his life Ed. You saved him. You could have died doing it Ed! But you saved him. Sometimes you're so impulsive! But at least that always works in your favor…" Al seemed to die down a little after that, though his eyes were sad. After a brief pause his head snapped back up with his characteristic determination and he smiled. "But if he thinks he's not going to have to back you back just because you're his subordinate, then he is dead wrong! He'll have to quit picking on you, yes, for at least a month I think, maybe two. Could he hold out that long? And, oooo! I wonder if you could get to use his office instead of your little desk, you know, trading places for a bit? Maybe you can ever get a break from your research for a bit and come visit us again! What do you think brother? Any ideas?"

I simply laughed and shook my head, "I'm sure we'll figure out something good Al." I leaned back into my pillow and felt myself give a small smile. "So he's alive…that's good." I closed my eyes, relaxing for the first time since what felt like forever. Scenes from that flashed before me. I saw him cup my cheek and my heart skipped a beat. The Colonel never looked at me like that before ---it left me dumbfounded. It made me feel strange, but they say battle does strange things to you. I can only imagine that it was a combination of my relief that he was alive, my fear that it may not last if he needed medical attention, and the overall stress and fear that we were still in battle. Maybe it was just shock from seeing the Colonel so weak and defeated. Anyone else I could see in that position, but the Colonel always seemed so strong, undefeatable, and unwavering. I never would have imagined that he'd be the one out of all of us to dance with death during battle. Al shook me.

"Brother, are you okay? Is it your head? Do you need the nurse? I'll go get her!" Al rambled off, starting to stand.

"No Al, sit back down. I'm fine." I chuckled, ever the worrier. "I was just thinking about the battle."

Al's steel eyes grew stern, "Don't you think about that Brother, it's over. Your only job is to get better!"

I nodded, smiling, "Of course Al. You know I'll be fine. I'm part automail, part steel."

There was a quiet knock and a small nurse entered, her mousy brown hair reflected the bright light coming from the hall. I hadn't noticed until then that the room was fairly dark. It was getting late. "I'm sorry Mr. Elric, but visiting hours are over --- I have to ask that your guest leaves for the night," she said in a kind, soft voice.

"Of course," I nodded then winked at Al. "I'll se you tomorrow!"

Al gave a weak smiled and nodded before heading toward the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back at me with sad eyes, "You're not made of steel Ed. I wish you'd remember that," he said solemnly then turned away.

"Al I—" The door clicked closed before I could say anything else, and I saw there in the dark left to my thoughts. The look on Al's face before he told me…ha! I almost thought Mustang had died. Like that would happen! The bastard Colonel would never let me get him out of my hair that easily! But still…back under all those rocks, I really thought he could die, and I hate to admit it, but I was scared. When he finally opened his eyes, I was so relieved, so glad, that it almost hurt. I felt as if I was going to laugh and cry at the same time. Still, I can't help but think—what if I hadn't made it, or, what if I had waited too long. Really I can't believe I hesitated like that! Looking back now, I don't know why I stalled like I did when Hawkeye told me what to do. It's not like I was kissing him or anything (even the though of that gives me chills). I was stupid and immature. Mustang's right—I've done a lot in my life but if I want to keep up with this career I need to grow up. I'm not just fighting for me and Al anymore. Heh, I'm nineteen and my maturity level can range anywhere from ten to fifty. Damn that Colonel, I hate it when he's right.

Still…imagine my first kiss being with Mustang! The thought of it makes my stomach churn! It'd be like kissing half the city…dirty old man!

Luckily, before my thoughts could go anywhere worse, there was a rapid tap and my door swung open. A familiar blonde top popped in, followed by a friendly face wielding a toothpick rather than a cigarette.

"What's the matter boss? You become a vampire or something?" Havoc laughed as he flicked on the lights—burning my eyes.

"Haven't you ever heard of warning someone?" I asked through gritted teeth. "You could blind a person you know!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Havoc chuckled, dropping unceremoniously into Al's vacant chair. "You act like you almost died or something."

I shot him an icy glare, "You look quiet lovely in a gown." Havoc looked down at his hospital gown before returning my glare. "You know, they have shirt and pant sets." I smirked, motioning at my own attire.

"Maybe the nurses just wanted a good view!" he stretched, grinning smugly.

"Or maybe they just thought this was your preferred style of dress." His smile fell faster than Central had. "But of course, they would never think a great war hero like yourself wore girly clothes."

"Hey! I am a hero!" Havoc replied indignantly. I simply gave him a look that said 'and I'm the Fuhrer'. "I am! While you and the Colonel were playing in the dirt, I sacrificed my smoking hand saving your and everyone else's asses. I think that's pretty heroic of me, don't you?" I blinked at him. "C'mon boss, I was just trying to lighten the mood."

"Well it was a valiant try," I smiled as I watched Havoc's face transform from one of hurt confusion to understanding and happy.

"Alright, I gotcha," Havoc leaned back in the chair, stretching. "So there's this nurse, right? She's a cute little thing. Bright green eyes, long blonde…"

Havoc's sure to be two hour description of how cute and wonderful this girl was faded into silence as my mind began to wander again. Talking about cute nurses? Really, after all of this, how was it so easy for him to just go back to his normal day to day? Looking at Havoc, if you ignored the cast over his right hand and wrist, and the few nicks and bruises on his face and arms—you would never guess that this was a soldier who had just fought in one of the biggest rebellions in years. Maybe this was Havoc's strong suit. Mustang's team is very unique and quirky—we aren't exactly the prime example of a military unit, behind closed doors anyway. We always put on our best front in public. I mean, our Colonel sleeps in his office, burns some of his paperwork rather signing it, and has this peculiar though in his mind that I am short. Bastard. His Lieutenant, while very good with her paper work (making her one of the only two who are in our unit), is a little bit trigger happy. And by a little, I mean a lot. All in all—we're just not a very work driven group and you're more apt to find everyone engaged in some form of distraction rather than work, whether it be going on an expedition to a haunted warehouse or playing betting games on Havoc's love life. That's probably why Mustang's been inspected in the past. But despite it all, we're a good unit and we do a good job. Otherwise we wouldn't have been the final front during the battle. So back to what I was saying—we all have our strong suits. That's what makes our unit so strong. Not one of us would be nearly as successful alone as we are together. And maybe Havoc's ability to go on like nothing bad ever happened, like hundreds of people hadn't just died, is one of his strong suits. Or maybe, just the ability to act like he's fine is. Either way, it's a good defense system. He should be happy for it.

"…and her uniform hugs it just beautifully!" Havoc exclaimed, coming to a pause in his recount of every attractive, single nurse between twenty and twenty-five in the hospital. "So what do ya say? Once your arm gets fixed we'll both be out of here. We should grab ourselves a couple of cuties on the way out. There's this fiery red head who'd be perfect for you!"

Havoc's last statement snapped me out of my daze, "For me? What?" I blinked.

"Are you even listening to me?" Havoc waved his hand in front of my face. "Me, you, cute nurses, score! Did you catch any of that?"

"Umm, yeah…" I nodded with a clear 'no' on my face.

"How hard did you hit your head out there? I'm telling you we could score some serious cuties!" Havoc rolled his eyes as if to say he couldn't believe anyone was excited at this prospect. "Come on boss, have you ever even _been_ on a date?" Havoc raised an eyebrow, interested.

"Well…no," I replied, shrugging. "Never really cared, never had the time."

Havoc's jaw dropped. "Then you have to do this. You'll love it!"

"I don't know…" I mumbled.

"Of course you do!" Havoc exclaimed, clapping me on the back. "Look, don't worry about any of the details; I'll take care of everything." Havoc snapped his fingers, "I've got it! I'll play you off as the real hero who's actually extremely shy when it comes to girls, so I'm setting things up for you. It's perfect! And don't worry, we'll make the first one a double so you won't be all alone."

"Really Havoc, it's okay—I'm really not—" I was cut off.

"You're only not interested because you've never experienced it! You haven't even taken the time to observe the true beauty of women! Once you get to know how great they are you'll be sucked in."

"Somehow, I think that only applies to you Lieutenant," I muttered off to the side while Havoc finished up his explanation on the beauty of women.

"Think about it Ed, you're nineteen years old, seven years in the military and haven't even made yourself a man yet!" Havoc clapped, laughing.

My face faulted, "I really don't think that's any of your business Lieutenant!"

"Ah Ed, we're both men here. It's alright to talk about it—I'm not judging you or anything, I'm just saying," Havoc patted my shoulder. I glared daggers at him and he quickly removed his hand. "Well I'm just saying…heh heh…I think I'm going to had back to my room now, but don't you worry boss, I'll take care of everything!" Havoc's voice faded as he left the room and the door closed behind him.

_My hand is getting tired, and I'm sure my writing it getting hard to read, so I think I'll call it quits for today. Yes, if you're wondering, since my love life is so fascinating, Havoc did set up that date, and no, it hasn't happened yet so I have no juicy details for you. Soon though…unfortunately. Well, until next time, I'm off to do more paperwork._

_- Edward_

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Well, even if it isn't as good as I had initially hoped, I had fun writing this chapter. I love Havoc so much and he gets so little attention it makes me sad, so yay Havoc!! Thank you for everyone who has reviewed and added this story to their favorites. I appreciate it so much and will try and update more frequently in return! Until next time!!

- Amber

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